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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24302422">Ashayam</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/mattthedungeonbat/pseuds/mattthedungeonbat'>mattthedungeonbat</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Trek</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>another self insert matt? yes yes i know okay</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 02:33:33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,225</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24302422</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/mattthedungeonbat/pseuds/mattthedungeonbat</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Starfleet Command doesn't know HOW Kirk gets into so much trouble, but he does. It's a patently ridiculous amount. And so they station a Psychologist aboard the Enterprise to keep an eye on the highest ranking officers-- a half-Vulcan Psychologist. Set just after TOS s1.5 onwards</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Prologue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Jim…. Jim!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>James Kirk glances back towards the sick bay, where Bones is hanging out the door. The Doctor glances behind him before hurrying over to walk with his Captain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We have a problem, Jim.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know I have to report the medical goings on aboard the Enterprise, Jim, and Starfleet Command... “</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If something’s the matter, Bones, just say it,” Kirk offers reasonably. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’ve been worried, Jim. I-I have to be honest in my report--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d expect nothing less of you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And the amount of mental and emotional strain the crew has been under-- </span>
  <em>
    <span>Especially</span>
  </em>
  <span> the higher ranking officers…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kirk stops walking and turns to face his nervous friend. “Spit it out, Bones.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They want a Psychologist onboard to keep the most vital officers in fighting shape, Jim.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh.” Kirk pauses. “Aren’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> a psychologist, Bones?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jim, I’m Chief of Surgery, I may know a good deal about it but I’m not certified, I never had the time. But, there is good news.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kirk raises an eyebrow teasingly as he begins to walk again. “Couldn’t have said that first, could you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s an impressive Psychologist from an Earth colony who agreed to sign on-- She’s not combat certified but I don’t figure she needs to be. Her results are magnificent, Jim, even if she’s a bit unorthodox. It’s a miracle I got Command to agree to her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why did you want </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span> doctor? Wouldn’t a Starfleet Officer have done?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, well--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The two men round a corner, and Kirk nearly trips over his own shoes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the end of a corridor, a Vulcan woman is talking to an Ensign, but Kirk can see what Bones meant about “unorthodox.” Her hair is long, piled into a bun atop her head, and shaved about the sides and back. Her uniform is the blue of the science division, but it’s shirt and trousers. A small gauge hoop hangs from one of her earlobes, and a stud sparkles in the other. Oh, and she’s smiling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bones--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know, Jim, she’s a veritable wood elf. Absolutely hated amongst her peers but the highest rated Psychologist of any of the nearby Earth colonies.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She </span>
  <em>
    <span>smiles,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Bones!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bones shushes him as they approach and the new Doctor turns to greet them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dr. Oratt, good afternoon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dr. McCoy,” She responds in a pleasant, impish voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, and this is James Kirk, our Captain.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She smiles and ducks a small curtsy rather than offering to shake hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I, um,” Kirk says, uncertain how to be polite about it. She smiles invitingly and quirks an eyebrow at him. “I-I hadn’t expected a Vulcan Psychologist, Doctor, forgive me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She laughs brightly. “Only half, Sir.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kirk can’t help but turning to give his Chief Surgeon a Look. McCoy shrugs, eyes wide.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Were you aware our lead Scientist is half Vulcan, Doctor Oratt?” Kirk asks, still looking at Bones.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, no I wasn’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Bones,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Kirk thinks. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Tell me you’re not matchmaking?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Bones, of course, does not hear him. He continues to avoid the Captain’s eyes, glancing about innocently. Oratt, on the other hand, glances between the two of them with a raised eyebrow, large green eyes entreating speech.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, why don’t you come along to the Bridge, Doctor,” Kirk offers to her, gesturing the direction. “Might as well get a good look at your patients before you get to work, no?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her smile is slow and intelligent. “That sounds good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s an interesting walk. Officers are stopping left and right, openly gawking at the new Vulcan aboard. The women tend to be gawking more in interest of the young Doctor’s style than her heritage, but even Kirk can’t deny that there’s a certain charm to the green, pointy woman. Her human heritage appears to be Oriental, wide cheekbones and slanted eyes melding beautifully with the Vulcan eyebrows and pointed ears. Where Mr. Spock is noticeably green, this woman looks as if she was meant to be, her golden skin tone seeming natural with olive undertones.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What is it with sexy alien women being green?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Kirk wonders, as the door sweeps open to the Bridge.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Uhura glances back at him, then does a comical double take, her pretty eyes wide. Kirk barely catches Dr. Oratt winking at the other woman from the corner of his eye. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He clears his throat, endeavoring to stride forward as if nothing out of the ordinary is happening.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Welcome to the Bridge, Doctor. That would be Lieutenant Uhura of Communications--” Uhura lets out a sparkling laugh of shock, covering her mouth with one hand. “--and these are Lieutenants Sulu and Riley on Navigation.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally, Mr. Spock glances up from his instruments, an eyebrow raised at the rustle of mutterings that’s been sweeping the Bridge. He glances back towards Kirk, then beyond Kirk to Oratt, and then-- amazingly, beautifully-- he too does a visible double take. Kirk glances back in time to catch Oratt’s mischievous grin as she bobs another curtsy to Spock across the room, nodding and smiling to the other officers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Say Doctor,” Sulu calls before anyone else can speak. “You wouldn’t happen to be half Vulcan, would you? It’s just I’ve never seen a Vulcan of your bone structure.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My father is human, originally hailing from the Southeast Asian region of Earth,” Oratt replies in a smooth tone of voice. She seems to be enjoying the chaos greatly. Sulu makes an expression of pleasant surprise.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Doctor?” Spock echoes, stepping up the railing with something approaching caution.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of Psychology,” Oratt specifies. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you are half Vulcan?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She gives him a look that even Kirk can identify as, </span>
  <em>
    <span>clearly.</span>
  </em>
  <span> It’s like a tennis match, really-- the best tennis match Kirk has ever had the pleasure of attending.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What did you say her name was?” Spock asks him, eyeing the Doctor with something akin to suspicion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, um, Oratt.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Spock looks very hard at him, then looks very hard at Oratt, who appears to suppress a smile and looks right back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do not understand,” Spock says. “Why would your parents give you such a name?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They didn’t, Mr. Spock. It’s my adult name.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He narrows his eyes in confusion. Kirk glances between them, less because of the tennis now and more because he doesn’t understand, either. Bones has been hovering in the background this entire time, and now he ducks forward, hovering at Kirk’s elbow as the two half-Vulcans engage in some kind of staring contest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you understand what’s going on, Jim? ‘Cause I sure don’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Spock speaks before Kirk can, but even if he surely heard Bones he doesn’t respond to him. “And why have we need of a new Psychologist, Captain?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bones replies. “Command’s orders. They’re worried we’ve been under too much stress already.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I assure you </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> for one am perfectly fine,” Spock says, and he turns on his heel back to his instruments.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, well, therapy sessions </span>
  <em>
    <span>are</span>
  </em>
  <span> mandatory for high ranking officers, Mr. Spock. So unless you’d prefer--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The look Spock sends Bones would be positively acidic if he were human.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Starting Off</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The next day, Captain James Kirk sits in Dr. Oratt’s new office. The vulcan woman sits across from him, behind her desk, setting up her computer to take notes.</p><p>“Tea, sir?”</p><p>“Thank you.”</p><p>“So,” Oratt says once tea is served, interlocking her fingers atop the desk. “I like to take the first session or so and get to know each other, settle any misgivings or questions you may have about the process, how does that sound?”</p><p>Kirk nods slowly. “...Reasonable, I suppose. Questions?”</p><p>“I know you’ve been evaluated before, but every therapist operates differently, or you may have questions regarding my education or reputation.”</p><p>“Mm.” He nods again. “I have to say, Doctor, I am a bit curious. Bones said you’re…. <em> Unpopular, </em> among others of your profession.”</p><p>She suppresses a smile. “To say the least.”</p><p>“Why is that?”</p><p>“Um… It may well be professional jealousy. I’m sure you know some cases are more difficult than others; I’ve had great success with some rather notorious patients. It may well be my colleagues don’t take well to being one-upped.”</p><p>“Hm.” Kirk nods his understanding. That could well be the case, he imagines. Oratt is young, strange-- not even fully human. He can’t imagine most doctors would enjoy being shown up by her. “Um-- doctor, forgive me, but how old are you?”</p><p>“Twenty-four.”</p><p>Yes, young indeed. A good eight years younger than himself. </p><p>“Any other questions?”</p><p>“I suppose I’d like to know your process, then.”</p><p>She nods, eyes wandering thoughtfully. “Of course it can change depending on the patient. But for most people, my aim is to create a space where you are one-hundred-percent free. No expectation of politeness, correctness. No one to please save yourself. Any thoughts you have, no matter how cruel or obscene, may be spoken of here with no judgement. Only kindness, understanding, and an outside eye to help you notice your own patterns and problems. I will not force you to relive something if it would harm you to do so; if I notice you beginning to fall into a flashback, I will try to guide you out of it. The goal of this therapy is not to retraumatize you or make you ‘functional,’ Captain; it is to heal you at the very foundation of the injury. Does that make sense?”</p><p>“I… Yes, I suppose it does,” Kirk says. “But how then do you get the results you apparently do, without pushing?”</p><p>She shrugs. “I have always found a safe and open space to be much more conducive to healing than a room in which you feel unsafe. Patients, when given safety, very often identify the core of their problem themself. We all know what we want, sir; it’s only a matter of being allowed to seek it.”</p><p>Kirk nods again. “You seem very wise for your age, Dr. Oratt.”</p><p>She smiles. “Thank you. Is there anything else you’d like to know about?”</p><p>“Not… not today, no,” Kirk says, a bit hesitantly.</p><p>“We needn’t start towards the heavy stuff right away, sir,” Oratt says kindly. “If you would feel more comfortable with our next session being more conversation about the process, or even about something entirely unrelated, then we can do that instead.”</p><p>“Yes, I’d like that,” Kirk says. “I-- Yes. Thank you, Doctor.”</p><p>“Of course.”</p><hr/><p>Doctor McCoy is next. He seems a bit on edge, as if he’d been in the middle of something before coming here, despite having known all day when his appointment would be.</p><p>“Is something the matter, Doctor?”</p><p>“Hm? Oh, I… No, not really. I just seem to find myself a bit anxious, recently.”</p><p>“Any particular reason?”</p><p>“It could be many reasons, Doctor, but if you mean anything new, no.”</p><p>“Anticipation of the next new disaster, perhaps?”</p><p>He chuckles, eyes downcast. “Perhaps.”</p><p>Oratt eyes him from across the desk, large green eyes unblinking. “Have you anything to ask me, Doctor? About the process, my education?”</p><p>“Mm, no,” McCoy says thoughtfully. “I’ve read a dreadful lot about your methods and history already, Doctor, else I wouldn’t have asked you here.”</p><p>She nods. “Anything in particular worrying you, then?”</p><p>“Not about…” Oratt can hear the unsaid <em> you, </em> but then McCoy shakes his head minutely. “Well yes, actually. I’m afraid I’ve never been much one for opening up about my feelings. And I do… I do <em> worry, </em> for my crewmates. We’ve seen a lot even in this short amount of time, but the Captain-- Mr. Spock-- They’ve seen the worst of it. And I do worry for them, Doctor. Jim doesn’t hide it as well as he thinks he does, the poor devil. That run-in with the virus really shook him up.”</p><p>Oratt nods thoughtfully, typing in notes with one hand as she watches him. “Have you spoken to him about it? Either of them?”</p><p>He huffs a tiny, humorless laugh. “No. I….”</p><p>“It’s alright to say it, Doctor.”</p><p>“I wish we had that kind of relationship, but we don’t. We’re officers, Doctor. Men. The sort of vulnerability that already doesn’t come naturally to us was then trained out even further. I suppose that’s why <em> you’re </em> here.”</p><p>She hums, smiling wryly. “Seems so. Is there anything that would help your anxiety, Doctor?”</p><p>“Mm, no,” He says tiredly. “No, nothing short of exiting the service, which I… I can’t do. Even then, it might make things worse. No. Just knowing I can speak about it helps, though.”</p><p>“Glad to be of service, Doctor.”</p><hr/><p>Uhura sits in the chair in Oratt’s office, glancing around herself. She seems curious, a little nervous but not overly so. She worries at the palm of one hand with the opposing thumb.</p><p>“How are you doing, Lieutenant?”</p><p>“Oh, call me Nyota, please, Doctor.”</p><p>Oratt smiles a little. “Alright. How are you, Nyota?”</p><p>Uhura laughs a little, still looking around. “A bit nervous, I have to say, Doctor. I never did much like being examined.”</p><p>“Mm,” Oratt contradicts. “The goal is not for me to examine you, Nyota, it’s for you to become comfortable and knowledgeable in yourself.”</p><p>“It is?” She seems surprised.</p><p>Oratt sits back in her chair, fingers interlaced before her stomach. “You’ve been through stressful situations, Nyota, and you’ll undoubtedly be through more. Every person needs a place where for a little while, there are no demands on them, no expectations. Where they can speak about the injustices they face, rail against the situation or their uppers, and no harm will come of it. I hope to make this, that place.”</p><p>“Oh,” Uhura says, nodding slowly. “Well that… it doesn’t sound <em> terrible.” </em></p><p>Oratt laughs. “I hope it won’t be.”</p><p>They trade smiles.</p><hr/><p>“Lieutenant Sulu, good afternoon.”</p><p>“Afternoon, Doctor, how are you today?”</p><p>Oratt laughs brightly as Sulu takes his seat. “Settling in nicely, I think. But isn’t that my line?”</p><p>“Ah.” He spreads his hands. “So it is. Ask away, Doctor.”</p><p>“Well actually, I did want to ask if you had any questions, first. Would you like to know about my process at all? My education?”</p><p>“I trust Dr. McCoy’s opinion of you. If he says you’re qualified, you’re qualified. But I would like to know how you do things.”</p><p>Oratt nods and sits back comfortably, mirroring the Lieutenant’s posture. “To put it simply, Lieutenant, my goal is to create a safe space where you can freely examine your own emotions and reactions. Nothing is taboo, no judgements will be made. I hope to help you identify anything that might be plaguing you, and offer you tools to set about fixing it.”</p><p>“I see!” Sulu says thoughtfully. “That sounds very meditative, Doctor.”</p><p>“It certainly could be, if that’s what you’d prefer.”</p><p>“I think I would like that. An hour of guided meditation every week… that sounds lovely. Perhaps you can even get my husband to try!”</p><p>“Your husband?”</p><p>“He should be on your roster as well; Kevin Riley.”</p><p>Oratt checks her clipboard. “Oh yes, there he is. Once we’ve all settled in we can certainly discuss a couple’s session, if you’d like.”</p><p>“I’d like that very much, Doctor.” Sulu says with a smile. “I never could get him to sit still long enough to try.”</p><hr/><p>“How are you Mr. Scott?”</p><p>“Ugh,” Scott mutters, flopped in his chair in Oratt’s office. “I have to say, lass, I’m glad to have an hour of time I’m not to be scurrying about the place. Those men up on the Bridge keep me running, I’ll give ‘em that!”</p><p>“Are you feeling overworked?”</p><p>“Ah, not physically. But it’s a hard job, being Head Engineer. So many things to mind, see, so much to keep up on. Tires my old brain out right quick some days, but then I’ve still got to keep going!”</p><p>“I can’t imagine the workload,” Oratt says, frowning in sympathy. “Is it very different from your previous assignments?”</p><p>“Well I’d have to say it is, yes. Every other day it seems old Jim boy’s run into some new trouble or other. There wasn’t <em> half </em> as much trouble on any of the other ships. I don’t know how he does it.” Scott shakes his head, looking into the middle distance.</p><p>“And how are you handling it?”</p><p>He sighs, then shrugs, then sighs again and shakes his head. “Best as I can, lass. I’ve been quite tired recently. Never can seem to catch up on my sleep.”</p><p>“Hmm,” Oratt says, making a note. “Is something keeping you up?”</p><p>“Can’t seem to turn my brain off,” He explains. “Can’t hardly close my eyes afore I’m being called to some crisis or other again. Now, even when there isn’t a crisis, I’m waiting for one.”</p><p>“That must be horribly stressful,” Oratt murmurs sympathetically.</p><p>“Aye, it is. I <em> just </em> want to sleep, lass.”</p><p>“You will,” Oratt assures him calmly. “We’ll figure this out, Mr. Scott, you will.”</p><hr/><p>Lieutenant Riley enters the room with a bounce in his step and offers a sweeping bow.</p><p>“Doctor.”</p><p>“Lieutenant, hello. You seem in good spirits.”</p><p>“Why, that I am, Doctor.”</p><p>“Any particular reason?”</p><p>Riley smiles and shrugs, so Oratt nods and moves on.</p><p>“Alright then. Is there anything you’d like to know about the process, Mr. Riley? Any concerns you have?”</p><p>He shrugs again. “I can’t say that I really care too much, Doctor. You just do what you do, no questions from me.”</p><p>“Alright,” Oratt says, making a note. “Do feel free to ask any question that may come to mind, Mr. Riley.”</p><p>“Certainly, Ma’am.”</p><hr/><p>Spock enters the office as stiff-backed as he could possibly be. Oratt glances up at him from their notes.</p><p>“Afternoon, Mr. Spock.”</p><p>He doesn’t respond.</p><p>Oratt turns to face him fully, gesturing to the chair. “Please take a seat. Would you like any tea?”</p><p>“No, thank you,” He says, stepping around the chair to sit in it like a robot.</p><p>Oratt nods acceptance and gets tea for herself, sipping it before asking, “Do you have any questions before we begin, Mr. Spock?”</p><p>“Yes,” He says, leaning forward suddenly. Oratt tries not to blink at his intense stare. “Why did you imply having chosen a male name for yourself after your <em> kahs-wan </em>?”</p><p>A sly look comes about Oratt’s eyes. “How would you define gender, Mr. Spock?”</p><p>“Gender is a social construct by which most intelligent life forms designate roles to perform within society.”</p><p>“Is that all?”</p><p>“Is it more than that?”</p><p>She smiles a little. “Mr. Spock, may I pose a hypothetical to you?”</p><p>“Proceed.”</p><p>“If hypothetically you were taken as a prisoner of war, chemically castrated, and made into the form of a woman forevermore, would you consent freely and happily to renounce your wife, marry a man, and live as a woman for the rest of your life?”</p><p>Spock blinks at her. She blinks back.</p><p>“I must think on this,” Spock says, standing from his chair. Oratt tries very hard to suppress her smile as he nods distracted farewell and leaves the room. He had only just arrived a minute ago.</p><p><em> And, </em> she thinks as she makes a few notes. <em> He handily outran any attempt to get </em> <b> <em>him</em> </b> <em> to open up at all. </em></p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. The trials start</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Oratt gets her first taste of life aboard the Enterprise</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The intercom in Oratt’s room whistles. “Sick Bay to Oratt, this is McCoy. You there, Doctor?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hurriedly puts down her book, stepping across the room. “I’m here. Something the matter?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just had Jim here, but he…. I’m not sure. He seemed </span>
  <em>
    <span>off,</span>
  </em>
  <span> somehow. I…” </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m worried something’s happened again.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I see,” Oratt says. “I’ll go visit him, then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He should be in his quarters. And Doctor…. Be cautious, please.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Always, Dr. McCoy. Oratt out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s a somewhat confusing walk from Oratt’s room to the Captain’s-- the halls of the Enterprise are all near-on identical. Oratt had been careful the previous day to take note of anything that might be unique-- name plates, notably colored valves. Anything to help her navigate. It takes her a touch longer to find the Captain’s quarters than she would have preferred, but she shelves her mild annoyance with herself and knocks on the Captain’s door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?” It’s his voice, muffled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dr. Oratt,” Oratt calls through the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come in.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kirk is shirtless, perhaps having just got out of the shower, Oratt thinks as he turns to face her. He’s undoubtedly well formed, beautiful shoulder-to-waist ratio. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Something I can do for you, Doctor?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Rather the opposite, sir. Dr. McCoy asked me to check on you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kirk smiles softly, the opposite expression Oratt had expected him to make. “Well that’s nice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He said you visited him in Sick Bay and seemed not yourself, sir, are you alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh I’m quite fine, Doctor. I’m afraid McCoy was just pulling your leg, he likes to tease Spock sometimes too. Just breaking you into the workplace humor around here, I’m sure.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oratt doesn’t think so. She’s only been aboard for a few days but she can easily see what McCoy meant by </span>
  <em>
    <span>off.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Kirk is relaxed-- his shoulders, the muscles of his face. From her observations and estimations, Captain Kirk is </span>
  <em>
    <span>never</span>
  </em>
  <span> relaxed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sir, would you humor me for a moment?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Certainly, Doctor,” He says breezily. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please close your eyes,” She says, and he does so. “Feel deep into your emotions, become aware of as many of them as you can. How are you feeling?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mm,” He hums. “Quite relaxed, Doctor. Better than I’ve…. Well, I’m feeling quite good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Better than you’ve felt in </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>how</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span> long, Kirk? </span>
  </em>
  <span>“And now can you think back to earlier today? What emotions were you feeling then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kirk hums again, and then stills. A small crinkle appears between his eyebrows. “Huh,” He says quietly. “Rather different.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The com on his wall whistles. “Transporter Room to Captain Kirk, this is Scott.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kirk opens his eyes and glances at Oratt with curiously raised eyebrows before striding across to his com. “Kirk here, what’s going on, Scotty?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think you’d better come see this, sir. Mr. Spock too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He glances back at Oratt again. “I’ll be right along. Kirk out.” Then, “Wonder what that’s about.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Captain,” Oratt says hesitantly. “Would you object to my accompanying you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mm, no,” He says, and turns to call Spock to the Transporter Room as well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oratt isn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>sure,</span>
  </em>
  <span> per se, but she has a feeling. A strange feeling, a misgiving. And even if her feeling is wrong, there is </span>
  <em>
    <span>definitely </span>
  </em>
  <span>something off about Captain Kirk. There would be no harm in further observation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Spock meets them halfway to the Transporter Room and the look he gives Oratt would have made her smile if she hadn’t been so on edge. Spock seems to pick up on her mood quickly though, his frown changing from nearly petulant to warily concerned, and he glances at the Captain’s back. The look he shoots her out of the corner of his eye clearly demands explanation, but Oratt can only offer a tiny frown instead. She doesn’t have an explanation yet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Scott is waiting for them in the Transporter Room holding a fluffy horned creature in his arms. He nods stiffly to Kirk and Spock, eyes lingering curiously on Oratt for just a moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s wrong, Scotty?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Transporter breakdown, sir. We beamed up this animal and.. Well, see for yourself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He reaches down and opens a large crate by his side. Oratt doesn’t need to step closer to see, she can hear it growling, the exact pitch she would expect to come from an animal the size of what Scott is holding. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Is he saying…?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“A few seconds after this one--” He hefts the animal in his arms, “Was beamed up, </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span> one appeared as well. Completely identical, but not. They’re opposites, sir, polar opposites. We don’t dare beam Mr. Sulu and the others up yet; if this should happen to a man…”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It already has,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Oratt thinks, staring at Kirk. He looks like he has an idea of it too; the tension is finally back in his frame, but not the way it was before. This is closer to nervousness than alertness; a lower level of stress entirely, as if the seriousness has gone out of him. She steps quietly past the men to the intercom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Transporter Room to Sick Bay, this is Dr. Oratt.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Everything alright, Doctor?” Comes McCoy’s voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dr. McCoy, could you describe to me the behavior of the Captain when he met you in the Sick Bay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Spock and Scott look back at her sharply.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, he was very agitated. Aggressive, shouting. He demanded some brandy and then left with it-- a whole bottle.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That wasn’t me,” Kirk says quietly, hands planted on the lid of the storage crate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Breathes Scott, clutching the creature to him a little tighter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Doctor, how did you know?” Spock demands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t,” Oratt replies. “Doctor, it appears Captain Kirk has been doubled by the Transporter, presumably into an amiable half and a capricious half. An animal the landing party sent up has been affected as well but is contained. Captain, maybe you really should report to Sick Bay. We don’t know what this splitting could have done to you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, yes that sounds best,” McCoy agrees over the comm. “And Mr. Spock, you’ll have someone look over the animal? If it’s smaller than Jim, we may see any adverse effects faster in it than in him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Affirmative,” Spock agrees, staring hard at Oratt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m… heading over now, Bones,” Kirk says, sounding a bit weak. Likely from shock, Oratt thinks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright. McCoy out.”</span>
</p>
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